


The Start of Something

by knightcommander



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25474153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightcommander/pseuds/knightcommander
Summary: They are really giving the office something to gossip about.
Relationships: Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey. About last night.”

She shook her head, taking off her glasses and cleaning them on her shirt. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Sasha.” He scowled, leaning back against the countertop. “Get coffee with me. Let’s talk.”

She put her glasses back on with a measure of finality. “Or, we could just get to work on time and keep being coworkers.”

“Well, that sounds like rubbish.”

“How rude! I happen to like my job. _And_ being your coworker.”

Tim laughed. “Then, don’t be.. uh. Awkward.”

The two of them stood on opposite ends of the kitchen, morning light streaming through the curtained windows. Tim was wearing his bathrobe, a fuzzy and comfortable affair. Meanwhile, Sasha was wearing one of Tim’s sweatshirts with yesterday’s leggings on underneath. They both were incubating terrible headaches.

She cleared her throat. “Listen, Tim. I really like you. Honestly. But right now I have a lot on my plate. With work, family, you _know_. Right now I just need a friend. My best friend.”

Tim nodded, inhaling slowly, disappointment creeping into his expression. He bit his lip for a moment. Then, with sudden cheeriness, he raised his eyebrows wryly. “Alright... _Friend_ coffee it is.” 

A coy tilt of the head, lips pursed. “I’ll grab my coat.”

“Hey, you’re going to give me that shirt back, right?” 

“Hm.”

* * *

A mote of dirt floated from the stack of musty papers, the storage room’s naked lightbulb casting shafts light along the percolating dust. Sasha struggled to carry the box of paperwork, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. Behind her, the door opened.

“Need a hand?”

She grimaced, turning just in time to see Tim in the doorway, fighting a sneeze. Sasha shifted the box onto her hip. “I think I’ve got it. Besides only one of us should have to suffer through this dust.” A thoughtful pause. “I really should email someone about this.”

“Nonsense.” Tim wiped his nose on his sleeve, stepping into the room and grabbing the box from Sasha over her mild protests. He hefted the thing up to just under his chin, the stink of stale papers causing his nose to wrinkle. “This thing is almost bigger than you. Where do you want it?” It _was_ heavy, but Tim would rather die than reveal that, his arm muscles straining under his shirt.

“Outside Martin’s cubicle.” She replied, dusting off her hands on her skirt. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. “Wait. What are you avoiding?”

“Oh? Avoiding something?” He gasped in mock pain. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t the go-to, helpful, _reliable_ –" Her arched eyebrows stopped him. He shrugged, defeated. “Would you hate me if I said ‘reviewing timesheets?’”

Sasha rolled her eyes smugly. “Thought so.” She turned back to the other boxes behind her, each one crammed solid with loose papers. Her expression suddenly became devious. “Well. When you’re done dropping that off, I have a few more boxes for you to carry.”

 _Sigh_.

“Anything for you, Sasha.” A grunt as he began lumbering forward with his task. “But also anything but timesheets.”

* * *

“Coffee?”

Tim looked up from his computer screen, startled. He quickly rubbed his eyes, straightening his hunched posture. “Sash! _Ah_ , hey!”

Standing over him, Sasha smiled, extending him a steaming mug. She was wearing a corduroy skirt and a green turtleneck sweater, her curly brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Casual yet polished, as usual. “You looked tired. Thought this might help.”

A snort. He took the mug, taking a small sip. “That obvious?” 

“Well, I know you hit that afternoon slump right around now and I was going to the break room anyway...”

“ _Sasha James_. Were you thinking of me? My word, can you imagine the gossip?”

Sasha sighed, folding her arms crossly despite the smile creeping onto her face. And perhaps a blush. “This is the _last_ time I bring you coffee.”

“Now that you’ve finally declared your affection, I have to be honest, I love the last name, but ‘Timothy James’ is just too many first names. Now, ‘Sasha Stoker...’ that’s got alliteration!”

“You’re just having too much fun.”

“Aw, Sash. You’ve got to admit, our kids would be disgustingly adorable.” He tilted his head charmingly, chin raised.

“Or maybe just disgusting.” Sasha snorted, amused. “I’m getting back to work. Enjoy your coffee.”

“Will do. Oh – still on for drinks later?”

“Duh. Five fifteen?” She paused in the doorway, looking back at Tim expectantly.

For a moment, he forgot to respond, a little too wrapped up in the banter. Also wrapped up in Sasha’s attention. He cleared his throat. “Brilliant. And I’m picking up the tab this time. For real.”

She smiled. “We’ll see about that.”

* * *

Tim stomped up the stairs, his brow furrowed. When he reached the top and walked into Sasha’s office, he paused to steam quietly, his fists clenched at his side.

Sasha hardly looked up from her computer, clicking her mouse a few more times. After a moment, she leaned back in her chair, swiveling to face Tim. “Let me guess. It’s doing it again.”

“It’s doing it again.”

Sasha smiled, trying to not be too smug. “Alright, let’s take a look.”

Together, they walked down the stairs, Sasha’s hand running along the wooden rail. Behind her Tim comically seethed, his footsteps heavy.

“Did you try restarting the program?”

“Yes, Sash.”

“Did you... restart the computer?”

“Yes.” A growl. “Of course.”

“Okay, well then.” She bit her lip. “Have you emailed IT?”

“Well, no.” Tim replied sheepishly. “I just thought...”

“That ol’ Sasha could just fix it?” Sasha reached the bottom of the stairs, making a left into Tim’s workspace.

Tim chuckled. “To be fair, you always do.”

“And I’m starting to think technology hates you.” She sat down in Tim’s chair, adjusting her glasses with immediate focus. Tim stood behind her awkwardly, watching her hands fly across the keyboard. _How does she have all those commands just memorized?_ “You said it was the mail app that isn’t opening?”

“Yeah, just like last time,” Tim replied, reaching over Sasha to grab the mouse. He experimentally clicked the “Mail” icon, demonstrating the issue. “See? Nothing’s happening.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Sasha took the mouse from Tim’s hands, their hands brushing for just a moment. As Tim straightened back up, he realized his face had been just centimeters from Sasha’s. He swallowed.

Pressing the power button firmly, Sasha cracked her neck. Waiting a few seconds, she rebooted the computer, her fingers pressed on what Tim perceived as a bunch of random keys. “I told you, I already tried restarting it.”

Sasha looked back at him with disappointment. “But did you restart it in Safe Mode?”

Tim scoffed. “Safe Mode?”

Sasha rolled her eyes. She clicked a few more options, booting up the operating system. Reaching Tim’s profile icon, she turned back to him. “Your password?”

Tim chuckled. “Nice try.” He leaned forward again, bringing the keyboard to his side and quickly entering his password. He passed the keyboard back to Sasha.

“Worth a shot. Might have found something _interesting_ in your files.”

A cheeky grin. “If you want to know what I like, you can just ask.”

“Ah, much rather find out for myself.” A sharp inhale. She pushed forward quickly. “Alright, looks like mail’s working properly. You really should talk to IT though.”

“Yeah, right. Of course.” Tim rubbed the back of his neck. Suddenly, he was quite glad his office was dimly lit. He could already feel a flush rising in his cheeks. “Thanks a lot, Sash. As always, you’re a life saver.”

She smiled coyly, rising from the chair and meeting Tim’s gaze, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Believe me, I know. Anything else you need?”

Tim shook his head, mentally cursing himself for being so awkward at the most inopportune times. “I, uh. I think I’m good for now.”

“You’ll let me know if you have any other... computer problems?”

“Of course.” He laughed nervously. “Who needs IT, anyway?”

"Hm.” Sasha turned to go up the stairs, her footsteps quiet. “Well, see you later.”

Tim felt frozen, and a little insecure. _It’s my job to be the flirt_ , he thought humorously, _she’s really stepping on my toes here._ He cleared his throat. “Hey wait – Sasha?”

She stopped in the doorway, her hair swinging as she turned back. “Computer broken already?”

“Actually, ah. I think there’s a café a couple blocks from here that’s got an issue with the till. Something about the.... touchscreen?” He grimaced. “It’s a nice place. I think.”

Sasha’s eyebrows raised, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. “Sounds like a big problem. Do you want to take a look at it with me?”

Tim ran a hand through his hair, rocking back onto his heels. “How does tomorrow night sound?”

“Ah... Sorry. I think I might have a date then.”

“Oh. Right.” A quiet pause. “Is he handsome, at least?”

Sasha turned the question over in her mind. “Hm. Very. About your height too. And your hair. A bit silly though. Definitely thinks he’s very funny.”

“Wow, sounds like quite the fellow. Can you give him my number?”

“Did I mention he’s completely in love with himself?”

A snort. “Well, not completely. I bet he’s got lots of love to spare, actually.”

Sasha smiled, now leaned against the door frame, mindlessly wrapping a curl of hair around her fingers. “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

Tim’s chest swelled, trying very hard to not spoil the joke with his barely concealed joy. He failed of course. “I can’t wait.”

Sasha sighed contentedly. “Me neither.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Sasha dug her hands deep into her coat pockets, the evening air crisp and chilly. As she lazily watched the passing traffic, she could hear Tim close the restaurant door behind her, the sounds of chatter and clinking dishware suddenly muffled. It was a cold night in London, the sidewalks slick with recent rain. As Sasha shivered, she could see her breath rise in faint wisps before her face.

“Cold?” Tim stepped up beside her, sliding his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her close, his voice cheery. “I’m sure we’ll see a cab soon.”

“You know, we could just take the Tube.”

Tim scoffed. “Stop being so sensible all the time. I happen to like wasting money.” 

“Is that why you always bring those weird, seasonal cappuccinos into the office for everyone?”

“Weird? Hey, I thought you liked them!”

“I liked that they... were free?”

Tim clutched at his heart with his free hand, grimacing in faux pain as he pulled slightly away from her. “Finally the truth comes out! Sasha, again, with the ice-cold heart. Such a stinging betrayal.”

“Oh stop, I’m just kidding! I think I liked the green one.” She furrowed her brow. “Matcha.”

“Hm, _noted_. I think Martin likes the peppermint.”

“And Jon?”

“Oh Big Boss Sims is too grumpy to enjoy a fun drink.” He lowered his head conspiratorially. “But if you’re wondering, it’s the pumpkin spice.”

She gasped, her hand flying over her mouth. “Now _that_ is scandalous.” 

“Mmhm. The Institute is just full of freaky surprises. Next I’ll be telling you that that Elias is giving us a raise.”

“Alright, but that one would actually shock me.”

“I know right?” He shook his head. “Stingy bastard.”

A small lull in the conversation. Complaining about work was certainly one of their favorite hobbies as a pair. All the same, Sasha loathed to spend her long-awaited Friday evening dwelling on Institute affairs. _A raise would be nice though,_ she thought wistfully. She decided to change the subject. “Not a lot of cabs tonight.”

“Still cold?” Tim began unwrapping his scarf from around his neck.

Sasha sighed, immediately protesting. “Keep your scarf, Tim. I’m fine.” 

Grinning, he draped the navy blue fabric around her neck, prodding it with his fingers until the scarf laid perfectly. All the while, Sasha glowered, unimpressed with his coddling. “Tim.”

“Yes, Sasha?” He responded blithely.

“How did this scarf get here?”

He stepped back to admire his work, ignoring her question. “You know, you should wear my clothes more often.”

“ _Tim_.”

He sighed, reaching to adjust the scarf one more time before sliding his arm around her shoulders once again. “Sash, your lips were turning blue.” 

She sniffed, reluctant to admit that she was definitely much warmer now. She leaned into Tim’s comfortable embrace. “A bit nippy is all.”

“Can you please just let me enjoy being your big, strong boyfriend for once?”

“Boyfriend?” She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Boyfriend, assistant, workplace diversion, punching bag – plus a few odd jobs here and there. You know the ones.”

Sasha chuckled, ignoring the intended innuendo and letting her head rest heavily against the woolen lapel of Tim’s coat. “You are _not_ my punching bag.”

“Hey, I might be into that.”

She didn’t even need to look at his face to know he wore a smug, teasing grin. “Are you watching for a cab? Or just trying to flirt?”

“Oh I can multitask.”

“Hm.” She kept her cheek pressed to his chest, snaking her arms around his back. She could feel Tim’s shoulders loosen, his breathing slow as he shifted his weight. Sasha wished she could tell him to relax, to stop worrying about her so much – _I’m not going anywhere_. _You don’t have to perform all the time._ But the words felt too serious for the moment. “So, boyfriend then?”

Tim swallowed. “I was just joking. Really. We don’t have to have that conversation right now –"

Sasha squeezed him. “No, I kind of like it.” 

“Ah... you do?”

“Yeah, ‘Boyfriend Tim’s’ got a nice ring to it.”

Tim rested his chin on her head. “Feels like a formal title.”

“It is.”

“Well, then. I’m honored, ‘Girlfriend Sasha.’”

A brief pause before Sasha finally laughed, unable to contain herself. The moment was simply too absurd. She wondered if this conversation could have happened without the guise of a joke, a failsafe to shrug off earnest words if they were not reciprocated. Sasha really wanted to say something snarky too, to deflect the moment into something insignificant. But instead she just stood there, silent save for her muffled laughter, still wrapped in Tim’s arms.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “I just like you. That’s all.”

A slow exhale. He raised his hand, running a few gentle fingers through her hair. “I like you too, Sash.” He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, his lips brushing her crown with a small kiss.

A flash of headlights caused Tim to look up suddenly, intruding upon their moment. He cleared his throat. “I think I see a cab. Are you ready to get out of the cold?”

Reluctantly, she pulled back from his arms, though relieved there was more where that came from. “Yeah, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote 1k more of this but then my computer crashed and I fell into a pit of despair. Anyway, can't get enough of these two! So I'll probably write more here but no firm promises because we really are living in Unprecedented Times™. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

The apartment was dark, the TV idling on the DVD menu screen, casting the sleeping pair in washed-out, blue light. Tim hardly stirred as the menu music cycled repeatedly like some turn-of-the-century lullaby. They had been watching an older documentary that Sasha had recommended – and it _did_ have good reviews. All the same, the pair had fallen asleep fairly promptly, their attention giving way to exhaustion.

Tim’s eyes cracked open slowly, his back aching dully. He was propped up against the corner of the couch, his head lolled against the back cushion. Against his chest, Sasha snored softly, her fingers wrapped in the folds of his throw blanket, legs twitching intermittently.

Tim could hardly stop himself from smiling faintly, shifting his weight to wipe a few curls from Sasha’s eyes. He absently wondered what she could be dreaming of this time; _hopefully not work again_. Tim was often both impressed and intimidated by Sasha’s non-stop work ethic, as well as her dedication to an institute that scarcely deserved her talents.

With a twinge of regret, Tim realized he could hardly extract himself from the couch without waking her up anyway. She was asleep fully flush against his chest, their legs tangled together underneath the fleece blanket. As he inhaled deeply then exhaled, Sasha’s head rose and fell, her dark hair strewn across his torso like a makeshift pillow.

He again reached to brush a stray curl from her face, weighing the pros and cons of getting up. On the one hand, Tim’s back was pretty sore from sleeping so unnaturally on the sofa. On the other hand... _Sasha_. Her expression looked so soft and unworried, contours cast in pale light. As a knot of emotion swelled in Tim’s throat, he wondered if he had felt this way before. _Maybe never?_ Tim was somewhat surprised by the revelation. 

As his gaze lingered on the smorgasbord of unfinished snacks and empty glasses on the coffee table, Tim groggily made up his mind. “Sash,” he whispered, “the movie is over.”

She stirred slightly, making some small noise.

“Sash.” He nudged her shoulder. “Let’s go to bed.”

Another small noise, then a huge stretch as Sasha kicked her legs out and tensed her whole body. Tim chuckled, even as her shoulder jabbed into his chest. She gripped the edge of the blanket suddenly, collapsing back onto Tim. After a moment of lazing, she finally spoke, though she still refused to open her eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s eleven – we’re late for work.”

Sasha froze for an almost imperceptible moment, her skin flashing red. Then, just as quickly, she relaxed, smiling nonchalantly. “ _Liar_.”

“Worth a shot.”

She finally opened her eyes, looking up at Tim. “What time is it really?”

“Honestly, it’s eleven.”

“God, we are so boring.”

Tim snorted. “Speak for yourself. I watched the whole thing. _You’re_ the one that passed out after one glass of pinot.”

“Oh?” Sasha grumbled. She rolled over slightly. “How did it end?”

“Ah.” He grimaced apologetically. “See, I would tell you. But I know you hate spoilers.”

“ _Liar_.”

Tim stifled a yawn, resting his arms around Sasha’s shoulder. “If you want, I could rewind it...”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you want me to carry you to bed?”

She chuckled dryly. “Good luck.”

“Suit yourself!” Tim suddenly propped himself with a burst of energy, dislodging Sasha from his chest and snaking an arm under her knees. Still sitting, he firmly pressed his other arm around her shoulders. “Ready?”

“Tim!” Sasha groaned, “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

He scrunched his face up in mock exertion. “Ye of so little faith!” He winced dramatically, raising Sasha a centimeter off the couch. Then, with a loud sigh, he gently plopped her back down beside him again. Sasha simply laughed, swatting his arms away as Tim wiped a nonexistent bead of sweat from his forehead. “Give me a second - I just need better leverage.”

“Oh stop it.” She swung her legs off the sofa and righted herself, tussling Tim’s hair as she did so. “You are very funny though.”

“Oh thank god.” Tim replied, drolly. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“Hm. Doubt it.” Sasha simply replied. She grabbed the blanket from her lap and threw it around Tim’s shoulders. “You are many things, Tim Stoker. Including tired.”

“Handsome too, I hope.”

“Very.” She tussled his hair again.

Tim paused, the two seated side-by-side on the couch, the fleece blanket draped over his shoulders like some sort of kingly cloak. He thought about saying something funny, but instead just smiled softly, taking Sasha’s warm hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Bed?”

“Bed.”

* * *

**Email Correspondences** : Compiled by Elias Bouchard, in monitoring Archive staff productivity. **File** : **Joint** : Tim Stoker, Sasha James. _Work productivity reviews to follow_.

**Correspondences Dated: 14/03/16**

Hi Sasha,

My computer is acting up again. Care to come down and take a look? Thanks in advance!

Best,

Tim Stoker, Archival Assistant

\----

Tim,

I already fixed your computer today. If it’s still having trouble, please reach out to IT.

Thanks,

Sasha James, Archival Assistant

\----

Sash,

Sorry I meant... the fax machine. It’s on fire.

Best,

Tim Stoker, Archival Assistant

\----

Tim,

I see.

Call IT. I’m actually busy today, sadly.

Sasha James, Archival Assistant

\----

Sash,

But I’m not :) What if there was a matcha frappe waiting for you down here??

Tim Stoker, Archival Assistant

\----

Tim,

!!!!!!!

On my way... just this once.

Sasha James, Archival Assistant

**Correspondences Dated: 02/04/16**

Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute,

Something spooky is going on. I’m scared and need a coffee break. Please, Head Archivist. You’re my only hope!

Best,

Tim Stoker, Archival Assistant

\----

Tim,

I’m not head archivist! Stop calling me that!

Sasha James, Archival Assistant

\----

Sasha, Head Archivist of the Mangy Institute,

You are too humble. Nothing but respect for MY head archivist.

Sincerely,

Timothy Stoker, Archival Assistant to Head Archivist Sasha

\----

Tim! 

These emails are monitored!

Sasha James, Archival Assistant

**Correspondences Dated: 20/04/16**

Tim,

Did you ever find the blueprints for the Archway apartments? Jon’s asking about them again. I would ask Martin to help but he’s still a bit rattled.

Thanks,

Sasha James, Archival Assistant

\----

Dearest Sasha,

Statement begins.

My name is Timothy Stoker. I work at the Magnus Institute as an archival assistant. I guess you could call it that: “archival assistant.” It’s... not a great job, or an easy one. But it certainly pays the bills. To be honest, I mostly just help consolidate old files and follow up leads – like a researcher of sorts. It’s not even hard most days. But sometimes I feel drained by it all. And I can’t put my finger on how or why everything just feels _wrong,_ as though we aren’t supposed to be here _._ It’s just a spooky place, filled with spooky people, researching spooky things. Did I mention the spooky stories? And the spooky boss? Something’s... _not right_.

But I digress.

Please see the Archway blueprints in the attachments.

Thanks and have a great day!

Tim Stoker, Archival Assistant

\----

Tim,

I’m just going to forward this to Jon.

Best,

Sasha James, Archival Assistant

\----

Sasha,

NO.

Tim Stoker, Archival Assistant

**Author's Note:**

> [cut to Elias watching all of this and just shaking his stupid head] 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I don't know if I will write more of this but, if I do, I'll add another chapter here. I 100% promise this will always be a "nothing-bad-happens" and "they-are-wildly-in-love" safe space for Sasha/Tim fans!


End file.
